


Idol Eyes

by Sotakura



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Clothed Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Smut, Teasing, this has a silly ending tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 12:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sotakura/pseuds/Sotakura
Summary: Yuuri begins packing up his life in Japan, preparing for his upcoming journey to St. Petersburg.Victor offers to help, but finds some surprises buried in Yuuri's closet.(or: Victor finds some hidden merch with his face on it.)





	Idol Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Like I tried to re-read this and edit it ... I really, really did but like my motivation to read this thing one more time today is at an absolute 0 rn, I apologize
> 
> Also, Yuuri's collection of Victor merch is w i l d l y exaggerated here okay just ... letting you know

Yuuri was stressed.

True, Yuuri was often stressed, but currently, he was experiencing more than the average level of stress. Packing up his life in Japan and shipping not only all of his belongings but himself to Russia within the space of a week, was a stressful situation.

And so, he wasn’t thinking straight.

Was too preoccupied with his to-do lists, his abysmal attempts at organising suitcases, with booking flights, and making calls, to even really pay attention when Victor rather excitedly offered to help him. Was nothing but grateful when Victor insisted on packing up Yuuri’s bedroom, barrelling up the stairs with a stack of flattened cardboard boxes under his arm and an air of mischief in his smile that went completely unnoticed.

It wasn’t until almost an hour later in fact, when Yuuri had allowed himself a moment to relax and brew himself a cup of tea that he realised the fatal error he’d made. He tripped on the stairs twice, knocking his knee painfully against the steps and knowing they’d bruise as he raced towards his bedroom door which sat, closed shut and unassuming, at the end of the hall. Yuuri then managed to almost slip on the rug and ram headfirst into his room, but saved himself with hands outstretched against the door jambs.

The sight that greeted Yuuri when he finally managed to press open his door was of Victor kneeling before his bed, with feet tucked underneath him. He sat there utterly focused on the spread before him, the numerous posters, the pictures hastily cut from books and magazines. The stack of calendars dating back several years, the DVDs burned with snippets of rehearsals and performances and interviews. Everything that Yuuri had gathered and hoarded and cherished since he was a boy. Every single thing that bore Victor’s face.

Yuuri couldn’t see Victor’s face now – the real, flesh and blood Victor that sat here on his floor – not the countless frozen images of him that were spread out on the bedclothes and spilling out onto the carpet. He was silent, and Yuuri was sure the only sound was that of his heart beating ten times faster than it should have been and threatening to burst out of his chest any second.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri eventually choked, once the silence began to suffocate him. His legs wobbled as he took a step closer. “I’m really so … I’m so sorry. You weren’t … weren’t supposed to see any of this.” Victor still didn’t say a thing but Yuuri could see his head move just a little. See him sliding his gaze over everything before him.

Yuuri closed the distance between them some more, bent down to gather some of his offending stash that were scattered about his feet and clutched them tight against his chest as though they might just sink into him and disappear. Maybe they’d just take him too, let him dissolve into a little puddle on the floor. At least then he wouldn’t have to stand here in this silence waiting for Victor to speak. Waiting for him to turn around and look at Yuuri with … with _what_?

Shock?

_Disgust_?

Because prior to their relationship, Yuuri was a fanatic. One who loved Victor with everything he possessed for as long as he remembered. Held this man upon a pedestal as some untouchable idol because that was what he was, what he should have always been. Because never in a million life times would Yuuri believe he would have him kneeling before him in his home, no longer just as a celebrity, not even simply as a friend, but as a lover. A lover that never needed to know just how obsessed his Yuuri had been with him growing up.

“This is,” Victor said, breaking Yuuri from his thread of terrified thoughts. “This is quite the collection, Yuuri.”

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri didn’t know what else to say. He simply hung his head, tucked it in against his chest as his face burned with a deep flush. Victor stood with a grace that only he possessed and placed his hands on his hips with a sigh.

“I don’t think I’ve ever even seen some of these things.” Victor reached out and plucked an item from the bedspread. A shirt with a teenaged Victor beaming across the chest, long hair pulled into a high ponytail. He held it up like a specimen, clutched between two fingers. “I never knew I had shirts made.” _You didn’t_ , Yuuri refrained from saying, for they were expensive and custom made just for him with Victor’s visage.

“And calendars here,” Victor continued, holding about five different ones up high so that they glared against the light, “that go back about … what, ten years?” Victor flipped quickly through a couple of pages and Yuuri caught a glimpse of some familiar shots of Victor, fitted into some of his elaborate costumes and captured mid pose or jump upon the ice. Frozen in motion, like a carved marble statue.

Something fierce and beautiful and ethereal.

Yuuri still had yet to see Victor’s expression and the need to was clawing at him viciously. His slow steps closer were shaky, and when he was finally standing next to Victor, just an arm’s length away from his side, his stance was unsteady. Yuuri peered around Victor’s shoulder and his face was maddeningly unreadable. A slight tilt to his brows, his lower lip tucked in between his teeth but otherwise, there was nothing else.

“Are you … angry?,” Yuuri’s voice was pitiful when he spoke. A tiny thing that forced its way from his throat, cracked and fragile.

“Angry?”

“You were never meant to see these things. I know it’s … I’ve just … for so long I’ve-,” Yuuri swallowed around his words. Took a deep shuddering breath and clutched so hard at the posters in his arms that they creased and crinkled. Fear sparked through him, sharp and sudden, and he didn’t know if he could reign it in. “I’m sorry. Victor, I’m sorry. Don’t … Please, don’t hate me – I can’t –“

Victor was suddenly surrounding him, pulling Yuuri so tight against his chest it almost hurt and leading his face into the space made just for him at Victor’s throat. Victor’s arms were unyielding against him, strong around his waist and perhaps the only thing holding him together in one piece. A pitiful sob wracked its way out of Yuuri’s chest and he buried it against Victor’s shirt which he was clutching fiercely in both hands.

“You worry enough for ten people, my Yuuri,” Victor said, in between soothing hushed sounds that were pressed into his hair. Coddling, like a child held against their mother’s breast and Yuuri couldn’t even find it in him to care. “I’m _shocked_. Shocked that you held me in your heart for so long and I never even knew it. That you’ve felt something for me since … since when? Since you were a boy? Even if then it was just awe, or admiration, it was _something_. Something just for me. And maybe I am a little angry. Angry over the fact that I had to spend so many years unaware of the cutest little Japanese boy pining over me.” Yuuri didn’t need to see Victor to know the words were said around a smile. His cheeks heated and he nuzzled even further into his lover’s neck.

“ _I wasn’t pining_ ,” Yuuri said, petulant, and muffled so much that Victor could barely make out the words. He laughed anyways, the vibration of the sound rumbling beneath Yuuri’s ear. It eased most of the remaining tension from Yuuri’s body, loosens him enough so that he sinks even further into Victor’s warmth with a deep and ragged sigh. Victor’s lips remain pressed to Yuuri’s temple.

“I knew that you were a fan of mine. Knew you admired my skating but I never … never expected _this_.”

“I didn’t want you to know. I was afraid of what you might say. Afraid that you’d think I was … I don’t know, that you’d think I was crazy.” Another laugh tickles Yuuri’s skin before Victor pulls from their embrace, just enough to re-situate them. Yuuri is turned to face towards his bed, with Victor pressed close against his back and hands firm at his hips.

“I think it’s sweet, coming from you,” Victor said, with his lips pressed to Yuuri’s nape. “And just a bit crazy.”

Yuuri’s face burns. Embarrassment muddled with the heat swelling from Victor’s mouth on his neck, which is now ghosting along his skin. Barely even a touch and yet, it’s too much.

“Does it … does it make you uncomfortable … seeing everything?”

Victor hummed, took a long breathless moment as if contemplating his response. His words are nothing but air, a whisper that strikes a shiver down Yuuri’s spine. “I love it. I love how obsessed you are with me.”

“ _I’m not_ -“

“Hmm, you can’t really argue, Yuuri, not when I can see all your little trinkets. There’s so many posters of me here, you must have had me wallpapered over this whole room.” Yuuri looked down at the offending objects in question and dozens of little printed Victors gazed back at him. Some young, all smiling and mischievous. Others older, dark and serious – with eyes that pierced straight from the page and struck Yuuri square in the chest.

And it was true, of course it was, that he’d had these plastered over every surface he could spare. The walls concealed and the ceiling too once he’d run out of space.

“I was the first thing you saw as you rose in the morning and the last thing you saw before you slept.” Unable to deny it, Yuuri stayed silent, catching his lower lip between his teeth.

Victor’s hands slid beneath the hem of Yuuri’s t-shirt, warm palms pressed to the skin just above his waistband where they stilled. His mouth had abandoned Yuuri’s neck for the line of his jaw, which he began to pepper with tiny, warm kisses.

“Did you dream of me?”

“Vic- _Victor_ -“

“I bet you did. Sometimes at least.” Yuuri groaned as his hands came up to cover his face, where the skin was hot under his fingertips. “But I wonder, were they innocent? Did you think about simply meeting me, or skating with me? About being there at my side, happy and _mine_.”

A slow smile stretched over Victor’s mouth against Yuuri’s cheek. Unbidden, Yuuri turned into the sensation, touched Victor’s lips with his own, barely a suggestion of a kiss. Couldn’t help himself but indulge in Victor’s heat and the teasing that rolled off of his tongue.

“Or,” Victor continued, and it was a whisper hushed into Yuuri’s mouth. “Were they filthy? Did you dream of touches, of biting teeth, and sweat, nothing but my hands on your skin?” His eyes were black and heavy, dragging Yuuri helplessly into their very depths. A pitiful sound slipped from between Yuuri’s lips and Victor swallowed it up. Another gentle kiss. Not enough. _Not enough_.

_Far too much._

“Did you touch yourself, Yuuri? The first time … your very first time, was it to thoughts of me? _Surrounded_ by me?” Victor sounded on the edge of desperation, his hands were tight, bruising, beneath Yuuri’s shirt and they were inching lower. His fingertips peeking just under the waistband of his jeans, and no further. Yuuri was lost.

Everywhere Victor was touching him, his hands, his forehead, the tips of their noses, was driving him insane. Feeling like ice, like fire, all at once. He needed so much more. Needed everything that Victor would give him just to hold him together, because he was on the verge of splintering down the middle into tiny, jagged pieces.

It was that deep rooted desire that had Yuuri nodding his head with little to no hesitation, even though it was embarrassing, even though it made his face feel hot like lava. Didn’t care about anything if it meant Victor would give him more and more and more and never stop.

The admission made Victor’s grip tighten, a shaking sigh fanning out over Yuuri’s skin. In the next moment, Victor’s touch was sliding lower, catching on Yuuri’s jeans and his underwear. He tugged them down to mid thigh – rough, jerking movements that made Yuuri gasp.

“Show me.” Yuuri’s hands were forced from where they had knotted into the bottom of his shirt, Victor guiding him down until his fingers brushed against the silken length between his thighs. He was half hard already, with just this. A small push of the hips backwards revealed that Victor was faring no better. His clothed dick pressing against the swell of Yuuri’s backside.

“Let me see you.”

Victor’s mouth was distraction enough for Yuuri to not feel exceedingly foolish, the slide of tongue against his own as he took himself in hand. The slow, unsure slide of his palm was too dry against his skin. Like the first time, curled up on his bed, when he had no idea what he was doing or what he wanted. Knew nothing except that it felt so fucking good. To explore with his trembling fingers and tighten around the head of his cock, eyes locked on a a picture of Victor, bundled up in his training gear, with his hair plaited down his back. And Yuuri had come too soon to the thought of long, pale fingers and soft, grey strands fallen loose and brushing against his thighs.

“Victor,” Yuuri said, pleading. A moan lost to another kiss as he pumped himself to full hardness and swiped a thumb against the slick tip of his cock. Victors mouth travelled along his jaw, the back of his neck and further until he was peppering Yuuri’s left shoulder in kisses.

“Good?”

“Yes – Yes, s’good but-“ Yuuri’s head fell back against Victor’s chest as the man pulled his shirt collar to the side and nibbled at what he found.

“More?”

Yuuri hummed his assent, nodding as his eyes fell shut. He had expected Victor’s touch, assumed that he would slap Yuuri’s hand away and replace it with his own and jerk him quickly until he was coming onto Victor’s fingers.

Instead, Yuuri felt a hand slide down his back, eliciting a shiver as it reached the bare skin of his ass, and Victor was parting his cheeks and pressing against his hole with a dry finger. Rubbing that hidden part of him in firm little circles. Victor’s other hand splayed across his stomach, unyielding and holding him upright.

“Did you touch yourself here, Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s throat felt ragged when he tried to make a sound. Hoped that a nod of the head would be response enough and Victor would continue. But Victor was so fond of teasing.

“Did you?”

Yuuri sighed, frustrated, and tried again to form the right words. Eventually they came, strained and as torn apart as Yuuri felt himself. “Some – Sometimes, yes. _Victor_ -“

“Good, that’s good.” Victor placed a kiss right behind Yuuri’s ear and then he was gone from behind him, having stepped over to the bedside locker where he fetched a bottle from the bottom drawer. The loss of contact for those brief seconds was enough to entice a whimper from Yuuri’s lips, so helpless was he to Victor’s promise of touch.

When Victor returned to the space behind Yuuri, his fingers were slick, and far more insistent as they rubbed between his buttocks. “Keep touching yourself. Don’t stop.” And Victor was sliding a finger inside, straight down to the second knuckle. He pumped the single digit in and out several times, before his index finger joined, pushing into the heat of Yuuri’s body.

They were often careful with their preparations. Be it Yuuri or Victor, they were usually slow and methodical in loosening the other up, sometimes right to the point where it was maddening. But other times there was desperation, passion and need so strong that their movements were quick and with purpose. The desire to fuck so intense that it didn’t matter if it hurt. For then they were tied together, sharing the same breath, and so close that space between them was non existent. Two bodies reformed into one.

This would be one of those times.

Victor scissored his two fingers, opening Yuuri up quickly, the stretch just on this side of pain. It was perfection. “When you fucked yourself like this, did you pretend – _hah_ – pretend it was me? My fingers, my cock, stretching you open?” Victor was leaning his forehead against Yuuri’s nape, his breath panting and harsh, damp against his skin. He was still straining against the confines of his trousers, hardness grinding into the back of Yuuri’s thigh.

“Yes – Yes, Victor, I thought of – of you, _yes_.”

Another finger, a third, was plunged into Yuuri alongside the first two and he moaned, far too loud. But it was nothing compared to the deep, guttural sound that Victor pressed into his neck. Yuuri struggled to keep his hand moving, stripping at his cock like Victor had told him too, but he was so close, so close, and he needed to come.

“Victor – _Vitya_. That’s enough, please. _Please_.”

Victor twisted his fingers inside, pulled them out to the first knuckle for less than a second before sliding them back in as far as he could press them. Did this once, twice, three more times before he was pulling back completely and Yuuri heard the sound of Victor’s zipper, the rustle of fabric.

The moments that followed were hurried. Victor forcing Yuuri to bend at the hips, his face and chest pushed down into the bed, crumpling and tearing some of the posters and magazine clippings that now surrounded him. Yuuri clutched at whichever ones were beneath his hands as Victor angled his ass up, settled the head of his cock up against his hole and pushed. Slid inside Yuuri in one solid movement that punched the air from his lungs. Yuuri’s glasses were askew, crushed painfully into the side of his face.

And he didn’t care.

Didn’t care about a thing.

His mind was muddled, nothing but a mess of Victor, and fire, and pleasure. Nothing spilling from his lips but cries for more ‘ _Vitya, more, please, more.’_

The pace was almost punishing, the sound of Victor’s hips pistoning into Yuuri’s ass a harsh repeating slap, and Yuuri would be red and sore for hours. And it was delicious. It was perfect. Everything that he had needed and wanted and more. For Victor was always, _always_ more.

He was floating high above everyone else. Untouchable. Uncontrollable.

And Yuuri was helplessly in love with everything that Victor was. Had been for so many years before they’d met, nothing but an unknown boy in a sea of worshippers. Had never been able to do much more than dream of simply meeting him in person, of being an equal, a friend, a rival on the ice. Nothing more. Never even _dared_ to think of the possibility of more. But now...

_Now…_

Victor was _his_.

Belonged only to Yuuri.

His heart, his body, and everything that he was.

Now Victor was here, buried inside of his body, his hands pressed to his back and his weight pushing Yuuri down into the sea of Victor that was scattered over every inch of his bed. Victor punctuated each down thrust with words stolen straight from his heart, gasping, and just a little mangled. ‘ _I love you. I love you. I love you.’_

Something that proved that not only did Victor belong to Yuuri, but that the opposite was also so very, very true.

Yuuri was _his_.

Belonged only to Victor.

His heart, his body, and everything that he was.

Yuuri didn’t need to take himself in hand once again before he felt his climax encroaching. Just pushed his hips back into Victor, arching against him and feeling the heat swelling, first in the pit of his stomach. His vision whiting. Fingers and toes curling. And then he was coming, spilling out over whichever image of Victor was positioned beneath his cock, a long drawn out moan vibrating him to the very core.

Victor didn’t ease up on his pace for even a breath. Kept thrusting forwards, knocking into Yuuri with force, his head thrown back as he neared his own peak. When Victor came he was silent. Mouth wide around struggling, panting breaths and eyes shut tight. His every nerve trembled, from his head to his toes, drowning him in a few precious seconds of pure ecstasy.

They recovered slowly, remaining in their positions until breathing no longer felt like ice in their lungs, and Victor was able to stand without threat of collapse. It took Yuuri a little longer. When he eventually stood, he could finally see the mess that he had made, crushed against a portion of his once beloved stash. It didn’t hurt half as much as it would have, years ago, to see some of his favourite pieces torn and crumpled out of shape.

Victor plucked one of them between two fingers, a newer poster showcasing Victor in his Stammi Vicino costume. It was now adorned with the evidence of Yuuri’s orgasm, striped across his cheek.

“You came on my face!”

Yuuri laughed, surprised, and covered his mouth with one of his hands. Victor grinned, looking wholly disheveled and wonderfully happy.

“I’m sorry we ruined some of your things, Yuuri.”

“No! No don’t – don’t be … I’ll be getting rid of all this anyway.”

Victor’s expression shifted from happiness into one of confusion, his brows dipping together, head tilted. “Why?”

“I – I don’t need them … anymore. I have you. The real thing. I don’t need them.” To his own ears, it certainly sounded as though he was trying to convince himself of that fact too. His merchandise was precious to him, even with Victor standing right there by his side, the thought of simply dumping everything was difficult. If nothing else, it was for the memories that each piece he owned had attached to them.

“But you have to keep them, the ones we haven’t ruined at least.”

“Uh-“ Victor all but shoved the spunk covered item at Yuuri to hold, then turned to the bed to start rolling up posters and folding clipping into neat little piles. “Wh-Why? Why – Why do I need to keep them exactly?”

“So you can put them up next to mine, of course.”

“Y-Yours? Your what?”

“My posters. My posters of you.”

_Wait_.

“Posters … of … me … ?”

“I’ve been buying them since I got here to Japan, but I was sending them over to Russia as I got them so I wouldn’t have to worry about shipping them all together later. That and I knew you’d get all flustered about it and would probably force be to throw them out.” Victor continued blathering on as he righted Yuuri’s collection and separated out the ruined ones. “But now that I’ve seen this … well, I’ve got a lot of work to do. You’ve had so much more time to collect than I have.”

Victor turned, smiling, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous look once again. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s slightly parted mouth, before walking around him to pop open one of the flattened cardboard boxes.

“Come on, Yuuri, we have so much left to pack!”

**Author's Note:**

> Can i just say that the title of this fic is the greatest use of wordplay I have ever achieved because Yuuri was surrounded by Victor's eyes on all of those posters (Idol Eyes) and Victor is someone he used to, and does Idolize ..... yes, those years studying for my degree in English were actually put to good use, anyway I'll see myself out 
> 
> ( oh and man what was that ending like ???? the tonal shifts in this thing were fucking wild jc lol )
> 
> Tumblr: [Sotakura](http://sotakura.tumblr.com/) (main) // [Cutie-Taekwoonie](http://cutie-taekwoonie.tumblr.com/) (kpop)  
> Twitter: [@and_in_blue](http://www.twitter.com/and_in_blue)
> 
> Good day! ^_^


End file.
